


such a boy

by wolfchester



Category: SKAM (Norway)
Genre: Break Up and Make Up, F/M, and i'm so sad they never got to be endgame, just a lil something bc i LOVE and MISS them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-05
Updated: 2019-03-05
Packaged: 2019-11-12 07:56:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18006905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfchester/pseuds/wolfchester
Summary: they kiss at parties. a lot of parties.





	such a boy

**Author's Note:**

> just a lil something i whipped up. i love these two so sossos os so s much my heart cannot contain the LOVE. thanks a fckin lot julie :((( (jk julie if you're reading this i love u)

They kiss at parties.

A lot of parties.

Pushed up against the wall. Lounging on a couch. In hallways. At back doors. Right in the middle of the dance floor. Sometimes in bedrooms. Sometimes, it leads to more.

They sleep together at parties.

Not as often as the kissing, but often enough that it’s a thing. Not exclusive, of course. Exclusivity be damned. Chris isn’t that kind of guy, and Eva’s not sure if she’s that kind of girl anymore either.

They have sex in friends’ little brother’s bedrooms, with colourful paint on the walls and glow-in-the-dark stars, on single mattresses that creak. They have sex in bathrooms, quick and fast. In closets. In the back of William’s Porsche. (Only once, after said best friend caught them and they had to promise to never do it again.)

Again, it’s not exclusive. If she’s not at a party, he’ll hook up with someone else. Eva doesn’t care. She really doesn’t. She’ll do the same. Because sex is sex, and she’s not afraid to admit that she likes it.

Things begin to change when Chris continues to show up to high school parties after his graduation.

Sometimes with Eva. Sometimes he just happens to be there, makes lame excuses as to why he’s attending, makes out with her in a hallway after midnight. Chris, an army boy, can get whatever girl he wants. And he does, sometimes hooking up with other girls the same night as Eva. As previously mentioned, Eva doesn’t mind. Really. Besides, this is Penetrator Chris she’s talking about. He’s hardly the poster-child for monogamy.

Still, there’s something weird in the air between them at these parties Chris is too old for. A strange undertone beneath the jokes and the banter and the kisses. Eva continuously pushes any thoughts that require deep thinking out of her mind when she’s with Chris. Kind of because she struggles to think properly when she’s with him. Because, you know, his mouth. Is good. And his hair. His eyes. Face. Laugh.

Then, it happens at her place. When they’re not drunk, when they’re not surrounded by teenagers high out of their minds, when there aren’t any strobe lights to make their head spin, or bass pumping through speakers, or crop-tops riding a little too high. It feels like a different story. It feels like that unfamiliar crackling static in the space between them has a reason.

He meets her mom. He meets her fucking mom, in just a blanket, no less. Typical.

He keeps trying to convince her that they’re meant to be, but every time he says that word, that dangerous word - together - her heart jumps and she can’t breathe and she’s not sure if that’s a good or a bad thing. Probably bad. Right? Because Chris is Chris, and will always be Chris. No matter if the army has changed him. No matter if he insists he’s serious. Chris doesn’t do girlfriends, and Eva doesn’t do being a girlfriend, so it’s fine.

She asks him to come to the Eid party with her. He arrives at her house ten minutes early wearing a freshly-pressed shirt and holding a bouquet of flowers. Fucking flowers. Daffodils. She wants to laugh at the absurdity of it. She actually does. Chris doesn’t laugh back. His face is so gentle, so kind, so soft, so earnest, that she feels disappointed in herself for doubting his intentions and takes the flowers from him, thanks him, brushing his fingers with her own as she does so.

Chris doesn’t say anything back, just smiles. Toothless and nervous. It’s strangely endearing.

The Eid party is beautiful. Sana looks stunning, and it makes Eva happy to see so many of her friends happy, too. There’s a bit of a weird run-in with Jonas and Emma. It’s obvious from the friendly way Emma acts towards Eva that her idiot of an ex-boyfriend hasn’t told his current fling about them sleeping together. She feels bad about it, of course. Not the sex itself, because that was, and has always been between them, fucking great. But it’s the tinge of guilt she feels when she thinks about Chris and the daffodils, and Emma’s sweet, innocent face and annoyingly perfect pixie cut that makes it suck.

It’s not like Eva to regret things. But maybe she regrets that night with Jonas just a little bit.

What she doesn’t regret is leaving the party with Chris, and going back to his place for the first time.

Literally.

It’s literally the first time she’s ever stepped foot in his house. For such a confident and out-there guy, Christoffer Schistad is notoriously private. He doesn’t say anything special about it, but Eva feels the moment she crosses through his front door to hold a peculiar sense of importance. Add this to the fact they’d just kind of been on a date, and there were flowers involved, and now she’s in the same vicinity as Chris’ parents - also whom she has never met.

Chris takes her up to his bedroom. The house is quiet and dark, and she tries not to trip on the stairs. They pass his parent’s bedroom, and she can hear soft snores sneaking out from under the closed door. Everything feels so normal. The house is normal. The decor is normal. Chris’ bedroom looks like any other boy’s room, with hardly anything on the walls but clothes littering the floor. It feels normal when she sits down on the edge of his bed, and it feels normal when they kiss. And touch. And fall back into, under, the covers.

After, Chris whispers something into the dark. It sounds a little like: _go out with me?_

Eva, unsure of her reasons as to why, says: _yes_.

They break up two weeks later.

It’s over something stupid. They were at another party - this time, one of Chris’ uni friends’ - and a guy was flirting with Eva, and she was flirting back, and Chris got jealous and mad and told her she can’t do that anymore, not when she’s with him. She said they weren’t together. He argued the opposite. Neither could agree. And so, stuck between two labels, they called it off.

Alright, yeah, it was ultimately Chris’ decision. But Eva’s not about to admit she was wrong, and that maybe they were technically together. It doesn’t matter, anyway, because Chris won’t answer her calls and she hears from William through Noora that he isn’t even bothered. Still going out with the boys and posting shit on his Snapchat and not. fucking. answering.

They’re apart for two more weeks. No calls from him, no texts, no Insta DM’s. Noora tells her not to worry. That William says Chris is just like this sometimes. That he’ll come around. Probably.

Except by the beginning of the third week, there’s still nothing. And Eva’s starting to get worried.

This wasn’t a break-up break up, right? Was it even a break up at all if they weren’t (kinda, really, maybe) together? God, it’s all so confusing.

So Eva does something she never thought she’d do, and especially never for Chris. She goes to the supermarket and buys a small bouquet of daffodils.

Ringing his doorbell is the most humble Eva’s ever felt. And she dated Jonas Vasquez for the longest time, who loved to treat her like one of the boys and jokingly shit on her twenty-four seven. (She loves the guy now, but he was a pretty shitty boyfriend.)

He opens the door on the third ring. His hair is disheveled. He’s shirtless, and his boxer shorts are crumpled. Chris is as surprised to see Eva as she is surprised she’s standing there.

“What do you want?” he asks, rubbing sleep from his eyes. His voice cracks a little, tired, and Eva’s breath catches, remembering that one lazy morning at her mom’s house not so long ago.

With slightly shaking hands, she holds the bouquet out in front of her, begging him silently to take it. He does, and looks at her with the strangest expression.

“I’m sorry,” Eva says. She sucks in a breath, and everything threatens to come tumbling out at once, but she resists. “I’m sorry for being a terrible girlfriend.”

Chris bites his lip, and Eva just wants to kiss him, and kiss him, and kiss him. “I thought we were never together?” His voice sounds strong, but his eyes give it away. He wants her, too.

Her shoulders drop in defeat. “Forget that. Please. It was so stupid.” She tucks her hair under her beanie. It’s greasy and in need of a wash. As soon as she woke up, she went to the florist, then came straight over here. Desperate? Maybe. “It’s been three weeks. Can we talk?”

He doesn’t respond right away, and she fears she’s blown it completely. Fucked this all up for good. What was she thinking, bringing a bouquet of fucking daffodils to his house at seven in the morning? She’s a crazy person. Only a crazy person would do this.

Then, Chris steps forward. Then, he slides a hand under her coat, and pulls her towards him. Then, he kisses her.

 

* * *

 

They do talk. Eventually. Chris’ parents were out for the weekend and the house was empty. And, so, you know.

After, they’re laying in his bed, Chris’ head resting on her bare stomach as she plays with his hair. His breath on her skin is ticklish and uncomfortable but it’s the most worthwhile feeling. It was only three weeks, but she missed this. She missed him so much.

“I don’t want to break up again,” Eva says, whispers. Chris freezes, then relaxes, then abruptly sits up and faces her and kisses her hard.

“Me either,” he says. “Fucking hell. Me either.” He smiles.

Chris’ smile is brilliant. Blinding. Beautiful. (Or any other positive adjective starting with B.) She wouldn’t go as far to say _his smile was like the sun_ like how authors describe things in the romance novels Vilde loves, because the sun is pretty fucking bright, you know. But it’s up there. It’s almost on par with the sun.

Chris is strange. He makes her feel seen. Wanted. Loved (?).

His hair is soft to the touch, and he hums as she brushes her fingers through it.

Yes. Loved. One day soon, she’ll tell him just how much.

**Author's Note:**

> more beautiful skam content coming soon, binches. follow me on tumblr @buckebarns


End file.
